Subtle
by shattered petal
Summary: When it happened, she was prepared, but she wasn't ready. -HitsuMatsu


**author's note**: Just a oneshot I wrote, which you don't have to like. Lately I've been feeling my writing is pretty shit, but maybe I'm acting silly and paranoid. Eh. Anyway, I do hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Title**: Subtle  
**Genre**: Romance  
**Rating**: K+  
**Couple**: HitsuMatsu

* * *

They were subtle hints.

However, Rangiku Matsumoto had mastered the art of subtlety. Short, swift movements, but ones which flourished with a love she hadn't witnessed in her life. Rough, cold fingertips that had been dipped in blood for so long, were surprisingly soft at her flesh. It was when he moved a strand of hair away from her eyes, so _innocent_, but her heart stopped completely. Three seconds in which she held her breath and forgot how to think, to talk, to move.

Unclear signs. Once he looked at her during a meeting, and she caught him gazing. Most men would quickly look away, red in the face. It was disturbing how he didn't flinch when she met his cool eyes, and it was she who looked away, cheeks flushing. He was not a man who felt uncomfortable around her, didn't feel ashamed for his actions or words. That whatever he did, she wouldn't frown at him or scold him, wouldn't dismiss him. His confidence was special, unique, _alien_. Many believed his confidence was in his power, in his abilities, but his confidence was hidden, so much more _subtle_.

It wasn't confidence which shone whenever he fought. It was honour, but honour and confidence didn't always go hand-in-hand. This man had only expressed confidence around her, and when she caught him looking, making sure she was okay, that was confidence. The fact he didn't look away, didn't blush in embarrassment that she had caught him staring. That was confidence. Always, he had been a very proud man, and his pride glistened in his eyes when he looked at her from afar.

When he rubbed off the pen smudge from her cheek, she heated up slightly, but more out of uncertainty. He had said nothing, just caught her arm while they passed each other, and quickly removed the smudge. There weren't any questions. She frowned at him, but his expression didn't quiver. It lasted less than four seconds and he was gone so fast. A small error he spotted across her skin, something which he didn't recognise or didn't like. With anyone else, he wouldn't have cared. He wouldn't have _noticed_. Yet, with Rangiku, he had to stop her, he had to _make sure_ she was all right, and remove the distraction, the flaw.

But he always been quite fond of her face anyway.

Subtle still, but more obvious. Several more months and years passed, and she realised he was holding her gaze for longer. They would converse, and the usual amount of time for someone to look away when no words were exchanged would be at least two seconds. However, that was only for those who were unsure, couldn't predict and felt uncomfortable. Lacked confidence. Again, this was a man who didn't lack confidence around her, and even when their words fell silent, he didn't pry his gaze from hers. He watched her, intently, and he was listening, waiting, patient. It was a sort of attention she hadn't endured before, and didn't know what to make of it.

These signs were becoming more and more clear.

The man always had _meaning_ behind his actions, and such a meaning was making more sense to her. Once, he commented on her hair, saying it looked nice shorter, and it was a compliment she treasured and stuck to. For some reason, his words mattered more, and she maintained the shorter hairstyle. It was a quick, almost uncaring one though. She actually initiated him to say something about her haircut, and, on his way out of the office, he responded, saying he liked it, and that was all. There was nothing else to add, but she didn't need a fuss, just a confirmation.

Usually they walked together, side-by-side. Rarely were the two seen without the other. They were inseparable pieces to a chess game. Yet he walked a little closer to her, and she wondered if it were protective urgencies kicking in. Wondered if he deliberately meant their hands to touch. And when they did she felt as if electricity had bolted through her body. A cold _snap_.

It was a smile. Small, _subtle_, but she caught it. His lips were a little chapped, but stretched upwards a bit to one side, lifted, and he looked proud. Not at himself, but at her. Sometimes, Vice-Captains of different divisions were ordered to be the main speaker of meetings. Practise for when, and _if_, they were to ever become Captains themselves. She had spoken many times before, it was a tedious repetitive game, but maybe she had shone this one time. Because when she looked at him, for reassurance or in case he had something to add, that smile was there. Confidence. He was confident in her. Subtle, but so, _so obvious_.

Never did he speak, though; voice his actions.

Many assumed Rangiku to be confident herself, to burst with self-esteem and ego, but surprisingly she could be timid. The clearness of his actions triggered something within her, and she couldn't bring herself to question or challenge him. She couldn't force him. And so she let him make her tea every morning without her having to ask, she let him curl a strand of hair around her ear, let his hand brush against hers, sit beside her during a meeting, asked if she was all right. Foolishly, but curiously, she waited. Allowed him to remove the straps tight around his chest, undo them, and let everything spill.

Like he, she could be patient to those who deserved patience.

So, of course, when it happened, she was prepared, but she wasn't _ready_.

It was a rare, dark day. The night was cruel to her, and the only time she dreamt it was filled with grins and laughter. Of a man she had wanted to forget, but simply couldn't. A love she wasn't able to remove, no matter how hard she tried.  
She knew he knew. She knew the moment she entered the office that he would sense something was wrong, that her spirit was.. _uneasy_. But he didn't speak, didn't look up at her from his desk, didn't ask, and it was later the day, both standing, conversing, when she voiced her concerns.

Rangiku's eyes were a storm at times, but could transform into a summer sky. Now, the storm has passed, but there was still a darkness, a damaged element that shone within them, and he noticed. His eyes were fixed, strong, and while she talked, she stopped abruptly when their gaze met. It was a shock, the shock of him watching her, so _intensely_. The fact he was listening and cared so much, that shocked her. And she looked away, turned her attention to the tea she had been preparing and continued, aware of his fierce eyes on her, like that of a lion, _a dragon_._  
_

Subtle.

When she stopped talking, when she had finished, she waited for his advice, his lectures. But nothing came. So she looked back at him hesitantly, and asked what he thought, and jokingly considered if he believed she insane. She wanted his advice, wanted to know what he thought about her suffering nightmares and whether she was still fit to work by his side. If, maybe, she was too weak now. If dreaming of ghosts meant she could no longer fight beside him.

And when he kissed her, she knew that was out of the question.

This time, she wasn't prey, and his lips were soft and cold, but her own warmth was a knife. Effortlessly, he surrendered to her spirit, her soul, and everything she was. He always had. Subtle behaviour which was no more. She had waited, and her patience had paid off, in the most bizarre way. Yet, she was stunned, and when she responded, she thought a minute had gone by, but she couldn't be certain. She moved into him, pressed herself to his hard chest, and encouraged him to hold her, let her hand rest at the back of his head, and she kissed him too.

Finally, he allowed the hours to pass, let them go by. Finally, he scarified the blade for a moment to love. His confidence wasn't the ice he surrounded himself in. His confidence was _her_, the love she offered from the very beginning, the security of knowing that he would turn around, and she would be there. The _safety_ he endured whenever she was near. The _completeness_.

'What are we doing?' A whisper against his lips.

This was a general question, which didn't refer to _now_. It referred to everything, what _had_ they been doing, what _were_ they doing, what _will_ they do.  
… and _why_?

Nothing was clear, absolutely nothing. His subtle hints were signs for sure, but they didn't offer explanations, they didn't offer information she needed to _understand_. He couldn't offer that information, couldn't _provide_ it.  
As always, they were two lost souls treading into a dark, unknown path. But together. Daring, always.

'I don't know.'

This wasn't the last time his lips silenced her.


End file.
